


Seasons of Love

by i_write_shakespeare_not_disney



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - RENT Fusion, Drug Use, F/M, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Musicals, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 09:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13784340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_shakespeare_not_disney/pseuds/i_write_shakespeare_not_disney
Summary: A self-indulgent RENT the musical AU because I've been in a writing rut. These are gonna be hella different from the actual characters, and I don't usually write like that, but I'm fusing the RENT personalities and the Voltron ones, so.Life is a shitshow and these people are just trying to make the best of it. Set in Houston instead of NYC





	Seasons of Love

It really said a lot to be behind on rent when living in the shittiest little apartments in the shittiest little neighborhood in Houston, Texas. It wasn’t like it was expensive living there…. Except it was when you lived off minimum wage, needed constant doctor appointments, and were still paying off student loans from the film school that got you nowhere.

That’s how it was going for Keith at the moment. He’d moved in with a friend from high school in hopes of things getting better, but…. Things just weren’t that simple. It was like they were damned to stay in this shitty cycle of gaining money only to lose it to survive, then fighting to get it back to pay off survival again and… it was so exhausting.

Shiro was a nice guy. He was clean and was playful and funny. And he had HIV.

Idiots would say it’s because Shiro has slept with a man before. But Keith knew the truth. He’d met the wrong girl in college. She was a drug addict, but she’d hidden it from Shiro for a while. When she told him, Shiro had already been too in love with her to care. He wanted to help her get better. He stayed through her withdrawal… which was probably why he didn’t catch on in time.

The withdrawal had been coupled with the beginning stages of HIV. And she’d given it to him.

Keith never really asked, but she knew Shiro had gone through hell and back, and not just because he was infected. The death of that girl had fucked him up. He’d turned to drugs too. And he’d had to get himself off it. He turned to music and work outs and focused on work over dating. Keith couldn’t really blame him.

They had no power at the moment. No gas for the stove, no heater. And it was winter. In fucking Texas.

Granted, it wasn’t as bad as it was in the north. But they were in Texas which meant they weren’t used to the cold and Texas was weird because you experienced every goddamn season in one week and had to figure out a way to live your life with it. It was only seventy degrees the night before. Now, in their living room on their moth-eaten sofa, they were shivering under blankets and staring at bills, all stamped with bright red block letters saying PAST DUE in 20 degree weather.

“Rent’s coming up.”

“So’s Christmas.”

Keith sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll figure it out. It’s not like the landowner has us here on very legal terms in the first place.” There was a knock at the door and Keith stood up to answer. There was only one person who would be here this early.

“Hey, _cariño_.”

Keith smiled and accepted Lance’s quick kiss. “Hey, baby.” He let him in and Lance immediately sprawled out on the couch, his back against Shiro. Simple and at home. Shiro didn’t even flinch.

“Hey, Lance.”

“Hey, Muscles. What are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” Keith answered quickly. “You ready for your big performance tomorrow night?”

Lance bit his lip and slid his feet into Keith’s lap as he sat back down. “Actually, no. Something happened with the equipment. The mics keep fucking up and I don’t know how to fix it.” He leaned forward and bit lightly at Keith’s shoulder. “Can you help fix it?”

Keith bit his lip and looked at Lance, his big blue eyes looking at him hopefully.

Lance was unfairly attractive. With burnt caramel skin, wide blue eyes that twinkled, a dimpled smile, and tousled brown hair. He was tall, and he was strong, and he was funny and sweet and playful. He was persistent too. That’s what had reeled Keith in.

He hadn’t been too fond of the Cuban boy, with his flirtatious smirks and winks and the way he laughed too loudly at everything. But Lance kept coming at him, insistent and cheesy. They’d met during an outdoor play. Lance was the lead and Keith had been hired for photos.

He supposed it was a perfect match for Lance. He the performer, Keith the film guy. Maybe that’s what had caught Lance’s attention in the first place. What made him bring Keith flowers and chocolates, what made him leave little sticky notes with cute (shitty) one-liners even though he had a girlfriend of two years who had been a childhood friend before that.

Keith hadn’t known. Lance told him though, when Keith finally responded to his gifts with smiles and blushes instead of eyerolls. When he asked Lance on a proper date. It had put Keith off for a bit, but Lance promised to break things off with his attorney girlfriend and get back to him. Surely enough, the next day, Lance had seen Keith and pulled him into the most intense, public kiss he’d ever experienced.

There was something gratifying about knowing Lance had chosen him over someone. Given someone else up to be able to be with him.

It made Keith want to give Lance everything.

So when he looked at him with those sapphire starry eyes, Keith had to say yes. Even if he didn’t know a damn thing about equipment.

Lance smiled brightly at him and pulled him into a kiss, making Keith dizzy until Shiro pointedly cleared his throat. He pulled away and buried his face in his neck. “I love you, Keith.”

Keith smiled and wrapped his arms around him.

Shiro chuckled humorlessly and threw a ratty pillow at them. “You have him so whipped, Lance. Come on, let’s go find something to eat for breakfast.”

“Looks to me like you have someone to eat for breakfast,” Keith snickered, gesturing to the balcony window.

There was a note taped to the window that read, _Come down for breakfast, Superman -M_

“Is that…. Oh my god, is that the stripper dude we found out lived here?” Lance asked, stifling laughter. Keith nodded as Shiro blushed and went out to rip off the note. “You’re going, right?”

“Why would I do that?” Shiro muttered. “I barely know the guy. I met him when he was grinding his ass against _Keith._ No, I’m not going- oh God, Keith I just realized the joke you made. Fuck off.”

Keith laughed into Lance’s hair and shook his head. Lance took a deep breath and kissed Keith’s cheek. “Alright, I have to go. I’m meeting up with Hunk later. Thank you for helping me, baby.” He gave Keith a smile, a big kiss on the lips, then got up. He waved at Shiro and made his way out of the door with the grace of a dancer.

Shiro looked over at Keith and raised an eyebrow. “He came here just to bribe you into fixing his stuff.”

“Bribe me with what, asshat?”

Shiro laughed and shrugged. “Maybe with his lips and a bat of his eyes?”

Keith rolled his eyes and got up to grab a scarf and head out. “You know what, you can’t tease me about a relationship when you don’t even have the balls to go talk to the dude downstairs.”

“Don’t need a relationship right now.”

Keith sighed as he grabbed his keys, opening the door before turning back around. “No one’s saying you gotta marry the dude, Shiro. But…. It’s been almost two years since…. Breakfast would hurt.”

“Bye, Keith.”

With a last scoff, Keith walked out and went to his car.

 

It took him all of ten minutes to realize he was absolutely fucked. He had no clue what he was doing. No clue how to fix the shit in front of him. He didn’t understand the wires, he didn’t even fully understand what was wrong with the mic. He tried turning it off and back on, he unplugged then re-plugged. But each time he tried to just go for something, he was afraid he’d just fuck it up more.

He sat back and pulled out his phone, googling how-to articles, getting nowhere, and then calling an actual technician. A bit later, Lance called him to see how he was doing.

“ _Amor hermoso,_ did you fix it? Is it ready to go?”

“Hey, Lance. Uh. No. Not really.”

“Oh.”

Keith winced at the sound of disappointment. “No it’s okay I’m figuring it out-”

“Babe, relax. I can just call Allura, she used to fix it all the time-”

“What? Your ex-girlf- no! No, don’t call her, I can fi-”

“Keith, _mi amor escuchame,_ it’s not a big deal we were on good terms, so-”

“That is _not_ what this is about, Lance.”

“Baby, I gotta go. I’ll call you in a bit. I love you!”

“Lance, okay but don’t-” Dial tone. “Fuck.” He groaned and laid back on the stage, checking his phone for the time. It was fine. Lance wouldn’t call his ex. And the technician would be here soon. Everything would get fixed, which meant Lance’s performance would go great, and then Lance would thank him with amazing sex and that would be that. Sex was a hell of a way to stay warm in the freezing winter after all.

\--

The streets of Houston were pretty shady to say the least. At least in neighborhoods like this. Walking through had never been a problem for Hunk, though. He was a big guy, tall and broad shouldered and wide. People didn’t fuck with him because he _looked_ intimidating. Though that didn’t mean he was.

Hunk considered himself more like a protector than a fighter.

It wasn’t to say he couldn’t fight. A guy like him living in a place like this… you had to know how to fight back when necessary. But they’d outnumbered him. They’d had pocketknives. Hunk didn’t have much on him to begin with, but what little he had was taken from him. And they’d left him beaten down behind a building, no jacket, and a shallow cut on his arm.

He tried to stand, but everything swayed and he had to sit back down in the muck of whatever disease ridden stuff was on the concrete below him. He keeled over coughing, shivering, wishing he could remember Lance’s phone number instead of having depended on the cell phone that got mugged.

He managed to take a few breaths before bringing himself up onto his feet. He started to leave the alley way, hoping to find someone who wouldn’t run away at the sight of him. He took a few tentative steps forward and winced as he felt the sting of something in his foot. A sprain maybe.

“You okay?” He heard someone ask. Hunk looked up to see a guy with long light brown hair in an oversized hoodie, and jeans with a bucket tucked under one arm. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah. Um. I’m okay, I think.”

“You don’t look okay.” The guy tossed the bucket aside and pocketed the drumsticks in his hands before walking over to Hunk. As he got closer, Hunk noticed that he was actually smaller than he thought up close. “What happened?”

“I got mugged. They took all my stuff.” The dude grimaced and his eyes fell to the cut on his arm. “I’m alright.”

“Well, we should clean that up. Last thing we need is you getting an infection.” Hunk laughed, but the guy just stared at him expectantly. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

“Um, okay.” He let the guy duck under his arm. He was surprisingly strong. “I’m Hunk, by the way.”

“Katie. You can call me Pidge.”

Oh. She’s a girl. That…. Okay. Sure. “Pidge?”

She smirked up at him, and Hunk thought the long eyelashes suited her. “It’s just a nickname my brother gave me. I like it because… I think it fits if I feel different.”

“Different?”

“Boyish. Girlish. Neither. I don’t change pronouns or anything, but yeah. Pidge fits better.”

“Pidge it is then. Thanks by the way.” She smiled at him and nodded.

About half an hour later, Hunk found himself on a bench in front of a Walgreens while Pidge cleaned him up. “Do you have someone you can call? Somewhere you could go?”

“Uh. Sort of.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I could go back to my mom’s, but she’d freak seeing me like this. My friend’s place is kind of far. And I don’t know his number by memory.”

She laughed and shook her head, putting a Band-Aid over the cut. “Well, I have to get to a life support meeting. You could come with if it doesn’t freak you out.”

“Life support?”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “People with AIDS. Like me. It’s kind of ironic really. Shit luck, I guess. I tried heroin with my brother and his friend once. And that one time, it was a bad needle.”

“Heroin,” he repeated.

She chuckled humorlessly. “I tell you I have AIDS, but you pick up on heroin?”

“I just… you don’t seem like a heroin-doing person.”

“I’m not. I was just… in a particularly bad slump. It’s a long story.”

Hunk nodded and looked at her for a moment. She was small. She had freckles all over her face. Hell, she could pass for a kid if she wanted. But there was something hard about her amber eyes. She was pretty. Handsome? Both. Attractive. Either worked.

Something about the way she carried herself made it obvious you shouldn’t cross her. Maybe it was because she was short, and people just don’t piss short people off. Regardless, Hunk knew she wasn’t in any way some frail flower. But looking at his bandaged arm, the way she looked at him cautiously, the daintiness of her hands…. She was also delicate. She was gentle.

She had AIDS. Which didn’t seem fair. Hunk wasn’t sure how it worked, even though he’d seen movies like _Philadelphia_ and _Dallas Buyer’s Club._ Pidge didn’t look like that though. She looked… completely healthy.

“I don’t mind hearing it on the way to that life support group. If you don’t mind the company.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and smiled. “Seriously?” Hunk nodded. A sweet, innocent smile spread on her face and she nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you a jacket though. It’s freezing out here.”

Once they’d gone into a thrift shop across the street and gotten Hunk a decent jacket for the weather, they started for the group meeting Pidge walked to every week. On the way, Hunk asked her for her story, which she surprisingly gave him.

Her father had been a very well known scientist, on the brink of some big discovery with a cure for c. fib. When Pidge started high school, he’d been diagnosed with cancer. At first it didn’t matter. The man continued his work. Her mother acted normal. Her brother, Matt, moved out and started college too.

Until one day it did matter. It made him weaker, made him tired, his work got compromised and his treatment had stopped working. It had been Pidge’s last year in high school. She’d watched her father deteriorate, watched the effect it had on her mother who slowly began pulling away and receding into herself.

He died after her first semester in college. The struggle of dealing with that, and the pressure to carry on his legacy, the pressure of her mom drowning her sorrows in too much wine, and her brother having gone MIA…. It was too much on top of the school work. She hit a breaking point.

She stopped going to classes. Missed midterms and forgot to apply for the following year’s scholarships. She was tired, and she felt like she wasn’t good enough to make it to where her father had. Her mother wasn’t much help as she was barely keeping herself together too. When she’d found Matt, she’d been surprised to find he had dropped out of college too. He’d become a stripper, which took time for Pidge to wrap her head around.

But he’d been the most put together. When she got kicked out of school, she turned to him. He took her in, did his best to help her pull herself together.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know her brother was doing drugs. Cocaine residues and the glazed look in his eyes before he left for work, the strung out look when he came back, the bruises on his arms. Weed, coke, heroin. He was juggling all of them.

Pidge was supposed to be out at her bartending job which she’d gotten at a well known club thanks to her brother’s connections. But there had been some sort of weird fight and everyone was ushered out and Pidge went home.

That’s when she came in to see Matt with his head on the table snorting a line of white powder and a few guys and a couple girls around him each either with the same glazed look or with their preferred drug on the table. Matt looked horrified and embarrassed, immediately rushing her out of the apartment.

But Pidge didn’t really care at that point. She was tired. She’d gotten into the habit of going to work then sleeping all day at home, only eating because Matt reminded her. She wanted to _feel_ something. She wanted to get out of her head. She wanted to try what they were doing. Matt had objected, yelled at her, told her she was crazy. That he’d fucked up getting into this, but she didn’t have to. That he wouldn’t let her.

So Pidge yelled back and threatened to tell their mother because no matter how drunk she might be, they both knew she would lose her shit if she knew what Matt was doing. She told him she was an adult and that she could easily find someone else to hook her up. She knew Matt would prefer to be able to watch and eventually, he relented. She went in, and was encourage to start off with a weed edible. But she wasn’t there to start small.

In her mind, she had fucked up in such a grandiose way by leaving school, she’d disappointed her father, and she was slowly losing her mind with the constant routine of work and sleep. All she had was Matt, and although she never admitted it to Matt since he blamed himself enough already, it also seemed like one of the few ways she could bond with him. They could get fucked up together and watch out for each other. Deal with life by pretending it wasn’t happening. Twisted sibling bonding.

So she’d said no. She ended up snorting coke and shooting up heroin that night. She couldn’t remember anything from that night after everything started swaying and she swore she started floating. The next few days were a haze of Matt taking care of her and her trying to get back on her feet.

She had decided she didn’t like the intensity of those two things, and ended up sticking to weed when she had bad days. Then she started getting sick. Thinking it was the flu, she never went to the doctor. She couldn’t afford it. And then it got worse. And then better. Then worse.

By the time she got tested, the HIV had become AIDS. She had been diagnosed a few months before and was going through treatment and the support group. Matt had gotten angry with himself, but Pidge didn’t blame him. Matt wasn’t infected because he had only done coke. He’d cried with Pidge for a long time and held her, apologizing despite her telling him it wasn’t his fault.

“It was kind of a wake up call for me though,” she said. “It snapped me out of staying in bed all the time. I started doing things I liked again. Going to the movies. Playing makeshift drums in the street for fun. I started playing vide games. Got Matt hooked on one. We play together all the time. Fucker is better than me at them though, so he’s always unlocking all kinds of stuff.” She shrugged. “It was just bad luck, I guess. But it also got Matt to stop doing heroin. One less drug he’s risking himself with.” She smiled at Hunk and chuckled. “Have I scared you away yet?”

Hunk looked down at her, feeling heavy from all the information and opened the door to the building Pidge led them too. “Nope.” She scoffed and continued inside with Hunk following after her.

\--

Breakups were hard in any context. Breaking up with Lance? That hurt more.

Because they’d been friends since third grade. She’d gone to all of his birthdays. He went to all of hers. He was her _chambelan_ at her _quinceanera._ They’d dated for two fucking years. And they’d developed a relationship that was between friendship and dating for years before that.

Because she’d been left for someone else. Someone else had waltzed in when she least expected and snatched him right from under her without caring that she was in the picture.

Because that someone was a boy. A fucking boy. Allura knew Lance was a flirt, and she knew he dated a lot and slept around before they got together…. Maybe even a bit while they dated, but she never…. He always came back to her. But she never would have expected to lose him to a guy.

Because she couldn’t just cut him out of her life. He was still the guy she had gone to when she was thirteen and got her period for the first time. Still the guy who had beat up her first boyfriend in ninth grade because he’d broken up with her for not putting out. He was still the guy who used to let her test her makeup on him and made funny faces when she was upset to make her laugh. He’d been her best friend. That was too much to try and forget or erase.

Besides he hadn’t… cheated on her. At least she didn’t think so. She knew he flirted when they were dating, had stolen a few kisses on drunk nights from strangers, but never when sober. He never slept with someone else while they were dating. He was straightforward with her. He told her he’d met someone, that this someone was a guy, that they’d met during a play, that the guy had reciprocated the feelings. He told her that he wanted to break it off.

Hell, the guy had even cried because he felt terrible for breaking up with her. But Allura knew she couldn’t keep Lance to herself if she loved him. Part of her also knew he wasn’t the guy she was meant to be with forever. He made her happy but… he wasn’t good for her as a boyfriend. Not as good as he had been for her as a friend.

She’d hurt for a few months, but maintained contact, though significantly less than normal. So getting a phone call from him wasn’t exactly weird…. It just threw her for a loop. Maybe he was going to remind her about the protest performance the next night.

“Hey, Lance,” she answered.

“Hey, _princesa!”_ he greeted, making her sigh. “Are you busy?”

“Not really at the moment…. _Que quieres?”_

“Uh, well… my equipment is fucking up again and I asked Keith to check it out but he really has no clue what he’s doing. I’d owe you big time if you went and helped me fix it. _Porfavor princesa, andale._ ”

Allura sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was the middle of the day and she wasn’t doing anything, but…. God this was so typical of Lance, but she also couldn’t say no, because they were friends after all. And she knew how much these performances meant to Lance. Besides, she did feel a little smug about the fact that Lance’s boyfriend couldn’t figure out how to help and made Lance need her. Just a bit.

“Sure, Lance. I’ll check it out.”

“Ah, thank you, I owe you big time!”

“Yeah you do. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Definitely. Bye, Allura!” He hung up with a cheerful tone in his voice and Allura rolled her eyes.

Then she got ready to go.

Granted, she wasn’t expecting to see someone on the stage when she got to the venue Lance had scraped up enough money to rent out. She cleared her throat and the person laying on the stage sat up, a red beanie falling sideways and making their hair stick out on their head.

“Uh… is Lance here?” she asked uncertainly.

The guy squinted and turned red. “ _A-Allura?”_

Her face contorted as it dawned on her who this must be. “Keith?”

He groaned and stood up, pacing back and forth. “I told him not to call you, dammit.”

She cleared her throat and nodded. “Yeah. Lance kind of does what he wants…. Um. Can I help anyway?”

Keith turned to look at her with a frustrated expression. “I hired someone already,” he muttered.

It took a lot for Allura not to strangle this guy. Jesus, what had Lance seen in him? Lance was so bubbly and this guy was so… sullen. She unclenched her jaw and gave a rigid smile. “Right. Well, have a nice day.” She turned away, pulling her scarf tighter as the wind picked up around her.

Then-

“Wait!” She stopped and turned around. Keith shut his eyes and waved helplessly at the equipment. “They’re three hours late.”

Allura scoffed and nodded, making her way back up to the stage. She put down her bag and kneeled down. “Okay, so what’s going on?”

“Lance said the mic was fucking up.”

“Always,” she mumbled. Keith snorted. “Uh, okay, there’s a different way to fiddle with this so it’ll- do me a favor and speak into the mic.”

“What do I say?”

“Whatever you want, just talk.”

Keith sighed and went to the mic. “Testing, testing, test one, two three.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “Of course you would.”

Keith glared at her and his cheeks burned. Allura glared right back. “This is so fucking weird,” he grumbled.

“Yep.”

There was a bit of silence before Keith plopped down to sit on the ledge of the stage while Allura messed with the cables. She watched him nervously, not sure how to read him.

“This is so stupid. God, he makes me so mad sometimes. I _told_ him and he just- every single time. I’m a camera person, I shouldn’t be having to fuck around with cables and microphones. And now _you’re_ here.”

Allura actually laughed at that. She figured she should be offended, but… that was a little hard to do when the way Keith was reacting was so familiar. She moved away from the equipment and hopped off the stage to look at Keith. “Drives you crazy huh? How he has you wrapped around his finger and you just can’t seem to say no?” Keith huffed and looked away from her. “That’s Lance. That’s what dating Lance is like for anybody.” She giggled and leaned against the stage, turning her head to look at Keith. “Lance has a habit of taking people’s heart and dancing with them until they’re left with nothing. And people still want more. Trust me, I’ve seen him play this game since middle school.”

“Whatever. You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s different with me, okay?”

She laughed and crossed her arms. “Really? Has he ever done that thing where he bats his eyes and calls you kitten?”

Keith scoffed. “No.” He sounded pretty confused, so Allura figured he was telling the truth.

“Sometimes when he kisses you, you feel like he’s not actually kissing you.”

Keith fidgeted and drummed his fingers against the ledge. “I’m sure that happens with anyone. Not every kiss has to stop time.” Allura hummed. “Um… when you dated him… would he, like… flirt with other people a lot?”

 Allura looked at him with disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me that. That boy did more than flirt, if he ever got drunk he’d-”

“Okay, you can stop. Fuck. I’m gonna be sick,” Keith moaned. “I always got worried he’d cheat on me, but-”

“Probably has.”

“But I don’t want to let him go!” he snapped. Allura looked at him sympathetically. “It’s not easy for me to… get close to people, okay? Lance is a big part of my life now, I can’t just… give up on him. I know I probably should, I mean this shit can’t be good for anyone, but….”

“But he always comes back to you. And that’s what matters,” she finished.

“It’s masochistic.” Allura smiled and nodded. “He… he makes me happy. I’ve been happy. He drives me nuts, yes, but… he’s also made my life so much better.”

“I guess that’s the bright side,” Allura offered. “Once Lance has a hold of you… you’re fucked. You can’t let go even if you wanted.”

“I don’t think I want to. Not really.”

“I don’t blame you.”

It was quiet for a bit. Keith sighed and Allura felt a little bad about making Keith doubt his relationship. But it wasn’t anything new anyway. Keith knew it all…. Allura was just someone who understood firsthand.

“Hey,” he said suddenly. She looked over at him. “I’m sorry by the way. I didn’t know he was seeing someone until I asked him on a date. If I’d known….”

Allura squinted and smirked. “Oh please. We both know that even if you’d known, we’d still be where we are.” Keith sputtered, but Allura shook her head. “It’s okay. Maybe you’ll get to him in a way I never could.”

Keith bit his lip and hesitated before asking, “Do you still love him?”

She grimaced and hopped back onto the stage to finish fixing the equipment. “Yeah. I mean, I think I always will in some way. But I know I’m better off like this. Lance is a better friend than boyfriend for me, so…. We’re a little more distanced than we used to be.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And even though it was said awkwardly and quickly and flatly…. The expression on his face told Allura apologies didn’t often roll off his tongue and when they did, he meant them.

So she just smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, say it to the mic.” She gestured and Keith looked at her in confusion. She laughed and stood up, going to the mic. “It’s working now.”

Keith smiled as her voice filled the room and high fived her as she stepped down. “Sweet. You think you could teach me how to work this stuff? So-” A default ringtone interrupted him and Keith pulled out his phone, his expression somehow perking up slightly. “Hey, babe. Yeah she came and managed to-” Keith froze and furrowed his eyebrows. “Did you just call me kitten?” Allura stifled a laugh into her scarf. “Yeah, okay well it’s fixed so I’ll see you later.” He hung up even though Allura could hear Lance’s preppy voice mid sentence through the phone.

He risked a look at her and she immediately batted her eyes and asked, “What’s the matter, kitten?”

“Oh fuck off,” he mumbled.

\--

Songwriting was hard. Finding the right rhythm, the right beat, the right note. It wasn’t that Shiro didn’t like it. He did. It was soothing. But when he got stuck…. It lasted a while.

Somewhere along the process of trying to think of a decent chorus, there was a knock at his door. He stood up and opened the door, expecting to find Keith having forgotten his key, but instead finding the boy from downstairs with an impish smile.

“Hey, Superman. You left me hanging this morning.”

Shiro chuckled nervously. “I wasn’t hungry.” Shiro noted a slight tremor in the guy’s hand as he ran it through familiar looking, long, sandy locks of hair. “You’re shaking.”

The guy smiled a little wider and leaned against the doorframe. “Don’t worry about me, Superman. Our power got cut off so I’m cold.” He bit his lip and looked up at Shiro with his eyes glinting mischievously. “I was kind of hoping you could help me with that.”

“With… staying warm?” Shiro asked, feeling nervous.

He nodded and his golden hazel eyes looked Shiro up and down. “Yep.” His eyes locked on Shiro’s shimmering with delight at the way Shiro seemed to freeze. “With candles and blankets of course.”

“Right. Um. Yeah. Come on in.”

Shiro went to the closet to find some spare blanket they could lend the neighbors, unable to stop himself from looking over at the guy standing in his living room. He was shorter than Shiro, but still tall. He had a lithe frame, but Shiro had seen him in very little clothing even if it had been a while ago. He knew that under the sweats and the hoodie there were toned muscles and sinewy curves.

He shook his head, clearing the image of the guy in tiny briefs from his mind. He walked over and offered him the blankets, eyes captivated by the way the sunlight glistened against his blonde hair.

“What are you staring at?”

Shiro blinked and looked at the guy in the eyes. “Sorry. Nothing. It’s… the sunlight in your hair, you just… looked kind of familiar.”

“Well-” the guy began. But then he swayed and Shiro instinctively caught him by the arms.

“Hey, you okay? Are you alright?”

The guy nodded, suddenly guarded as he pulled away. He gave Shiro a smile, his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth as he did. “Yeah. Just…. Got a little dizzy. Haven’t eaten very well lately.” He frowned and chuckled. “What, Superman?”

Shiro cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Um. You just…. You smile and reminded me of someone I knew.”

“Ugh, I get that a lot.” He paused and looked at Shiro curiously. “Who is he?”

Shiro shook his head. “Doesn’t matter…. They died a long time ago so.”

The guy nodded and hefted the blankets. “Oh. Sorry to hear that.” He bit his lip and flipped some hair out of his face. “Do you happen to have some candles?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” he said, going to the kitchen to scavenge the drawers. He returned with a new pack of them and placed them on the blankets. “You got it?”

“I’m a tough guy, Superman.”

Shiro laughed and tilted his head. “Why do you call me that?”

“You’ve got the muscles. And the whole chiseled face thing going.” He smiled again and Shiro felt his guard go up again, wary of this feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Um, I don’t mean to keep you. I’ll get the door for you.” He walked briskly to the front door, opening it as Matt walked through. Before Shiro could even turn away from the door, he heard a few rapid, urgent kicks against it. “Oh, do you need matches?”

This time the guy looked anxious. “No. No, I dropped something. You mind if I-?” Shiro shook his head and gestured in.

He left the blankets and candles on the couch and fell to his knees, crawling around like a child in search of something. Shiro wasn’t sure how he could’ve dropped something in the little time he was here, but with the urgency of his limbs, he figured the guy wasn’t pretending.

“The people at the club say I have the best ass out of every other worker there. What do you think?” he asked suddenly.

Shiro sputtered and looked over to where the guy was looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Huh?”

“You’re staring. Or does my ass remind you of your friend too?” He smirked and returned to scavenging the floor. “You remember me right? From your night at the strip club.”

“Yeah. No. I mean… you’re ass is… I just- yeah, I remember you from the club.”

“Thought so. Help me look, Superman.” Shiro frowned, but crouched down to look for whatever vice this guy was so desperate to find. He knew he’d know it when he saw it. “So my ass?”

“Gotcha.”

“Huh?” The guy perked up immediately as Shiro stuffed a tiny packet of white powder in his back pocket.

“Nothing, just the five dollars my roommate owed me.” Shiro cleared his throat and stood up as the guy regarded him. “So what’s your vice?”

“Coke. Weed. Amaretto. Not that picky.”

“Dude, you’re like eighteen, what are you even doing getting into that crap?”

The guy stood from the floor and crossed his arms. “I’m 24, smartass. I’m a tough guy and I can stop when I want. It just gets me through the day.”

Shiro noticed him moving closer, his eyes trained on Shiro’s back. Shiro knew this time it wasn’t because of his ass. He sat on the couch, and those honey eyes flickered back to his face. “Look, I get that. I understand needing an escape, but they only make things worse. Your hands haven’t stopped shaking since you got here.”

“I’m shaking because it’s 20 degrees outside and I don’t have a heater-”

“Then why are you sweating?” he asked as the guy sat beside him on the couch.

“The changing temperatures gave me a cold.”

Shiro looked him in the eyes, eyebrows narrowed. “I used to use this shit too. I got better. So can you.”

“I have nothing to get better from,” he protested. He sighed when Shiro refused to move. “You got a name Superman? Or should I start calling you Clark Kent, too?”

“Shiro. Call me Shiro.”

The guy hummed and pressed closer, making Shiro nervous. “I’m Matt. Short for Matthias.”

“That’s… a nice name,” Shiro gulped. Matt smiled and licked his lips, making Shiro lick his own. There was a smile spreading along Matt’s face, devilish and witty. Shiro managed a muffled, “Wait,” before Matt was kissing him.

It had been a long time since Shiro had kissed someone, and even longer since he’d kissed a guy. He could feel the start of stubble scraping his chin, and the strong, steady hands interlocking behind his neck to pull him down. Shiro draped over Matt, part of him wanting to end the kiss because he didn’t want to want this, but the other part of him refusing to break it because the fact was he did want it and it was happening so why was he complaining?

Matt’s lips were skilled as he moved, and when he bit down on Shiro’s lip, he couldn’t help the groan that rumbled in his throat as he leaned down to kiss him harder. He felt Matt’s hands slide down his sides and wow, Shiro had really gone a long time without this type of contact because he was already breathing hard even though he barely knew this guy and now he was making out with him and he couldn’t help the shivers from his touch as he moved his hands.

It wasn’t until Matt’s hips pushed upward that Shiro pulled away and gulped. “Oh God. Shit. I’m sorry. I… We shouldn’t be doing this. I think…. You should go. I’m so sorry.”

Matt was evidently disappointed, but instead of letting it fully register on his face, Matt smiled and sighed heavily. “Well, alright. I have my consolation anyway.” He waved the little packet in Shiro’s face then squirmed out from under him, leaving with a delighted laugh. Shiro noticed he left the blankets and candles.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Lance is wondering wtf happened to Hunk but the day isn't over yet lol


End file.
